


The Tom and Annie Universe

by thatcrazywriterley



Series: Anthea Gattis Chronicles [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Smut, daily life, family times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 18:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18674719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatcrazywriterley/pseuds/thatcrazywriterley
Summary: A series of one shots that follow Tom and Annie after (one of) the ending(s) to When I'm Gone.





	1. When You Say You Love Me

_Six months after_ When I’m Gone

            I looked around the room, taking in the pale cream walls and gold framed mirror over the table. The hotel suite was resplendent and decorated in shades of cream, ivory, and gold. A small sitting area was off to my right, two love seats around a small table. A television sat on an entertainment center. Off to the left and through a set of double doors was the bedroom with its wide king-size bed and the bathroom with the deep claw-footed tub.

            I stood in the center of the suite and just looked around. In twenty-six years, never once did I think that I would ever be in this position. Standing in the middle of the most beautiful hotel room I’d ever seen with the man I loved more than anything in the world. Tom smiled as he came across the room, a bright smile on his face. His eyes were so incredibly blue just then. His hands reached out for me, smoothing down the bare skin of my arms.

            A summer wedding in London. That’s what we’d agreed to. The truth was that we’d wanted to go to a justice that day on the neighborhood green, but Emma had talked us out of it. She’d demanded we wait, that we have an actual engagement with a proper wedding for all our family and friends. Harried beyond belief, Tom and I had agreed. We planned a wedding while looking for a house.

            The day had been brilliant and exhausting. I had kicked off my heels the second we’d stepped into the hotel room, but my feet still ached slightly. The hem of my dress pooled around my feet, making me feel like a stick poked into a cupcake. There was poof everywhere. Emma had gone on and on about how Tom and I were a fairytale couple so I had to wear a fairytale dress. And that was how I ended up in a mountain of white silk and lace. The bodice and front of the gown were bedecked in crystals that glimmered in the light. Slight, fragile lace straps draped over my shoulders and shined with their own jewels. The skirt swept out in a wide bell and a short train trailed after me.

            Tendrils of my hair snaked against the back of my neck, falling from where it had been twisted up into a crown at the back of my head. Tom’s fingers stroked softly up my arms and wound themselves with the thin feathers of curls against my skin. I couldn’t take my eyes off the thin gold band around Tom’s left ring finger. Some great part of my heart wanted to stare at it forever, to remind me that it was true and real.

            “How do you feel, Mrs. Hiddleston?” he asked, his nimble fingers burrowing into the crown of curls and drawing out one bobby pin after another.

             _Mrs. Hiddleston_. Those two words tumbled around my brain and sank into my blood like nothing before ever had. It was as if I’d been born to hear them, wear them,  _be_ them. They were the missing pieces of my heart that had finally been put in the correct place. I sighed, content.

            “Tired,” I said, closing my eyes against the feel of his hands against my body. He cupped his palm around my neck as my hair cascaded from its confines. The other hand slid gently down my back to pull me close. My fingers splayed on the soft cotton of his waistcoat, a deep blue that set off his eyes.

            The corner of his mouth tipped downward and a little furrow appeared between his brows. “Tired?” Tom repeated as if he’d never heard of such a thing before. His bottom lip protruded slightly. He was actually  _pouting_. I felt his fingers digging into my back as he held me tight to him, like that one word had undone all the vows we’d made that day. “I wanted to do this right. Everything. Especially on our wedding night.”

            I smiled and let my hands slide up to the already loosened tie around his neck. My fingers worked quickly and smoothly, drawing one end of the tie free from the knot until it was just a length of fabric draped beneath his shirt collar. I slipped the buttons at his throat free and pulled the material open. My lips pressed against his collarbone and the hollow of his throat.

            “Thomas,” I said in a voice I hadn’t used in a very long time. My mind suddenly flashed back to the day he’d come home from RADA all long legs and blond curls. He was my Tom, my best friend in all the world, and the man who had stolen my heart when we were sixteen. “I am never too tired for  _that_.”

            With great pride, I watched the smile spread over my husband’s face. His head bent toward mine just as his hands cupped my cheeks and tilted my face upward. Our lips met and it was like the first time all over again. He kissed me like it would be the last time, like he’d wake up in the morning and I’d be gone forever. His mouth was soft and warm and tasted like champagne and wedding cake.

            Tom groaned against my mouth as the tip of my tongue stroked over his bottom lip. He parted his lips beneath mine and drew my tongue into his mouth. My arms went around his neck and his tipped down my back to hold me tight against his chest. I could feel his heart beating a thunderous rhythm beneath his ribs. It matched the racehorse pace of my own.

            “Annie,” he whispered, his breath panting against my cheeks. He skimmed his lips over my jaw and down my neck. Tom’s large hands spanned my back, supporting me as he gently bent me backward so that he could rain kisses over my collarbones and down to the top of my bodice. I felt his lips curve against my skin. “I love you. Desperately.”

            My voice was husky, thick with love and longing and want and need. “Show me.”

            Something like a growl came rumbling out of his throat. One of his hands latched around my wrist and dragged my hand down to press my palm against the front of his trousers. His cock was hard beneath my hand as I slid my fingers over the length of him. Tom hissed and caught my mouth in another bruising kiss.

            And then he was behind me, his gentle fingers freeing the tiny pearl buttons at the back of my wedding gown. I felt the pressure release over my breasts and stomach and sighed happily. That dress had been so damn heavy. Heedless of the fact the silk would wrinkle, Tom let it fall to the floor with a strangled noise. I didn’t have to imagine the sight that made him do it.

            I stood in front of him in a white corseted bustier and tiny ivory knickers. White, lace-topped stockings covered my long legs. My hair was a tousled mass of curls over my shoulder from where he’d been digging his fingers into it. I imagine I looked slightly wanton, perhaps even a bit virginal in all the white.

            “Bollocks,” Tom swore under his breath. I turned to look at him, but only succeeded in peeking at him over my shoulder. His face was as pale as my dress, but there was color riding high in his cheeks. The blue of his eyes was livid against his skin. “Fucking hell and damnation.”

            There was no stopping it. I giggled. “Did you just say ‘hell and damnation’?”

            His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. I felt his eyes on me as a burning, physical thing. It made my skin come alive, every nerve awake and yearning for his touch. Heat pooled between my thighs. When Tom’s eyes met mine, there was something hungry and feral in his gaze. Suddenly he was there and his arms were around my waist and I was over his shoulder and laughing.

            I bounced as he tossed me onto the bed. My gaze traveled up his body as I watched him frantically trying to divest himself of every last stitch of clothing. His shoes disappeared beneath the bed. Part of me wanted to laugh as several buttons popped completely off his waistcoat. The rest of me was panting, desperate to see the lean, long lines of his body and the pale perfection of his skin. When there was nothing left to hide him from me, he tugged the covers down and slid onto the bed at my side.

            “You’re beautiful, Annie. You always have been,” Tom said, the tip of his nose brushing against my bare shoulder. His mouth left little butterfly kisses along my flesh until he had my fingers against his lips. He kissed my wedding band and pressed my palm against his stubble-roughened cheek. “Even when you had those god-awful bits of blue in your hair.”

            I opened my mouth to protest and to remind him that—at seventeen—he’d thought they were quite badass. But I didn’t get the chance because his lips were on mine again, his tongue stroking the seam of my mouth and his hand skimming up my ribs to slide beneath the top of my corset. His fingers stroked my breast, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing over my nipple. I burrowed my fingers into the soft curls at the base of his neck, holding his mouth against mine as I groaned from the sensation of his hands on me.

            Tom’s hands tugged the cups of my corset down and his mouth closed around my nipple. His tongue swirled around my flesh as he sucked gently, making the nerves in my core throb with an aching need for his touch. I gripped a handful of his hair and arched my back, deep moans vibrating out of my throat. I nearly screamed when his hand slid over my stomach and wedged between my thighs. His touch felt so wonderful.

            “Annie,” he said, looking up at me with lust and love making his eyes glaze over. “Are these… there’s not…” He swallowed hard. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Annie, there’s no middle to these knickers.”

            I was almost too far gone with desire for him that I couldn’t understand what he said. When it finally penetrated the fog in my brain, I smiled and blushed horribly bright. “Perhaps I hoped you’d bend me over the bed in my dress and have your way with me.”

            Tom growled, his forehead pressed against my stomach. “You are  _not_ allowed to say things like that to me, Mrs. Hiddleston. I don’t have the strength for it.”

            The smile that spread over my face could only be described as Cheshire. I put my lips to his and pushed gently on his shoulders, rolling him onto his back so that I was draped over his chest. His eyes went wide with shock as I kissed my way down the line of his jaw, his throat, and down over his torso. My tongue lapped over his nipples, drawing a groan out of him. I nipped gently at the flesh of his stomach and licked the hollows above his hipbones. I smiled against his skin when he lifted his hips from the bed, his fingers tangled in my hair.

            My fingers brushed over his cock. “Fuck,” he moaned at the feather-light touch. I kept my eyes on him as my hand wrapped around the base of his cock and stroked slowly. The look of tortured bliss on his face was a powerful thing. I thought he’d buck completely off the bed when my tongue swirled around the end of his cock before my parted lips slid down the length of him.

            Tom’s fingers flexed against my scalp as his hips pumped slowly up against my mouth. My fingers stroked as my mouth sucked gently. I felt the tightly coiled control in his muscles and reveled in the power that thrummed through my blood. To have my love, my touch, reduce such a strong man to his basest of instincts was a heady thing. I clenched my thighs together to ease the ache in my core.

            “Stop,” he panted, tugging gently at my hair. I propped myself up on my hands on either side of his hips and stared up the length of his body. His chest rose and fell as if he’d been running for hours. He let out a string of swears as I licked my lips, my gaze locked on his. “Please stop.”

            I sat back on my heels, trying to fight the dejected feeling that spread through me. Despite myself, I crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to pull the blankets around me to hide from him. In an instant, recognition swam over his face and he pulled me toward him. His lips traced over my throat and pressed against the spot above my heart.

            “I don’t want your mouth, Annie,” he whispered into my ear, his hand sliding between my thighs and his finger pressing slowly inside me. “I want  _this_.”

            My whole body shuddered, the feeling of rejection flowing out of me. Tom kissed me softly as he leaned back against the headboard. His free hand settled against my hip as he stroked his fingers in and out of me, pushing me higher toward some breaking point that I needed and wanted more than anything. At last, his hand was replaced with his cock. He drew my hips down as he pushed his up.

            He pressed his forehead against mine, the hot humidity of our breaths mingling in between us. Tom’s hands on my hips guided my movements, my hands on his shoulders keeping my balance as I rode his cock. “Right there,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of my thighs. “Right there, my love.”

            I threw my head back and felt his mouth burning against my skin. A low keening sound built in my throat and I cupped Tom’s face in my hands, bringing his lips to mine as my orgasm slammed into me. I ground my hips down, rolling them in slow circles as my entire body throbbed in time with my heart. Tom held me close, one hand buried in my hair and the other on the curve of my ass.

            “Thomas,” I moaned against his lips. The sound of his full name on my lips seemed to send him over the edge. His body rolled, pinning me down to the mattress. He hooked my legs over his biceps as he pounded his cock into me. I gripped the sheets in my fingers in a white knuckle hold. One orgasm faded into another, a white light crashing burning spots behind my eyelids pure bliss tearing my nerves to shreds beautiful thing.

            Tom bucked his hips viciously once as he came inside me. My body clenched at the idea of carrying Tom’s child. He fell against me, his head pillowed on my breasts as his breathing returned to normal. I loved the feel of him pressed against me, his weight warm and comforting over my body.

            “I love you, Tom.” Happiness clouded my entire being. There was nothing that could match this moment, the first time Tom and I made love as husband and wife.

            His lips moved against my chest, the fluttering of his eyelashes tickling my skin. “Forever.”


	2. When I See Your Face

_Five years after_ When I’m Gone

            I burrowed deeper into the blankets, the cold air from the open window making me shiver. Groaning, I pulled the heavy down duvet over my head and pushed my head beneath the pillows. Morning couldn’t be here already. It was far too early.

            The floorboards creaked. Feet pitter-pattered across the floor as a pair of feet came closer to the bed. I rubbed my eyes and poked the top of my head out from beneath the blankets as the mattress dipped on the other side. The scent of talc and sweet skin hit me, and my heart gave a heavy thud.

            “Good morning, Mum,” Tom said, inching his way up to sit on the headboard. I looked up to see his face smiling down at me, his eyes a bright sapphire blue and his hair a tousle of dark blond curls. A bundle of blankets rested in the crook of his arm. “How do you feel?”

            I scooted up to sit beside him, the blankets bunched around my waist. My body was sore and exhausted, but there wasn’t anything in the world that I’d trade for how I felt. My hand pressed against my stomach in a protective gesture that was no longer needed. “As good as can be expected. I might want to take a walk later.”

            Leaning my head against his shoulder, I looked down at the wide-open brown eyes of the little boy lying in my husband’s arms. The muscles of Tom’s arms flexed as he rocked our newborn son. “He’s been up for hours now. Waiting for you.”

            Tom grinned as he tucked our son in my arms, pressing a light kiss to the baby’s forehead. My husband’s long fingers smoothed down the downy blond hair on his son’s head. I smiled as his little rosebud mouth opened in a wide yawn. The back of my finger stroked the round curve of his cheeks and the little rings around his wrists. He was a beautiful baby boy. Healthy and chubby just like any newborn should be. I could remember the way it felt when he stretched and kicked inside me.

            “Perfect,” I cooed, rubbing the tip of my nose against his skin. He smelled of baby powder and milk. The thought made my breasts ache, reminding me it would be time to feed him again soon. “He’s absolutely perfect.”

            There was a thump out in the hallway and our bedroom door swung open. Two identical shocks of brown hair peered around the doorframe with wide blue-green eyes. Gripping teddy bears and dragging them by one paw, our four year old twins came rushing across the room and hurled themselves into Tom’s outstretched arms. Henry and James laughed as Tom wrestled them to the end of the bed and began to tickle their tummies. They squealed in delight.

            Baby Will looked at his father and older brothers causing a ruckus at the end of the bed, his wide brown eyes shifting back and forth between them. His mouth opened and closed. He reached out his plump little fingers toward Tom’s hair.

            “Daddy,” came a quiet little voice from the doorway. At three years old, Olivia was a mini version of myself. Her hair was long and brown with little curls at the ends. Her eyes were a dark greenish-brown that looked like fresh moss. She was already starting to grow out of her baby fat. She rubbed her fist against her eye and pushed a little stepstool to the side of the bed. Clutching her favorite stuffed duck, she climbed on to the mattress beside me and curled up under the covers.

            Tom looked up as she laid her head in my lap. “Good morning, princess,” he said with a wide smile. He had the twins pinned to the bed with his large hands on their stomachs. “Did you sleep well?”

            Olivia nodded and pushed the tail of Will’s blanket out of her face. “Henwy is too woud,” she pouted, staring daggers at her brother. It was quite a funny thing for Tom and I to see how Olivia and James got on so well while Henry nearly drove her crazy. The twins were like night and day when it came to their baby sister.

            “Do the voice, Daddy!” Henry called, kicking his feet against the mattress. “Do the voice!”

            Tom grinned. “I am Loki of Asgard,” he snarled, “and I am burdened with glorious breakfast!”

            Even Olivia started giggling. She crawled away from me to wrap her arms around her father’s neck and climb on his back like a little monkey. Tom was forever wrestling and roughhousing with the twins. More than once they’d all come in from the garden covered in grass stains and dirt. Sometimes they played football and Tom showed how utterly horrible he was at sport. The boys ran circles around him without losing their breath. But when it came to his little girl, my husband was a mountain of mush. All Olivia had to do was grin at Tom and he would go to the ends of the earth for her. She had him wrapped around her finger enough that she’d gotten him into a pink princess tiara to play tea party just a week before.

            “Are you hungry, princess?” Tom asked, looking over his shoulder at his daughter.

            She nodded, her cheek pressed against his shoulder blade. “Eggie in a basket.”

            My husband looked at me with a stricken look on his face. That particular dish was a bit beyond his expertise. I grinned back at him and, making certain Will was firm in the crook of my arm, wiggled my way out of the bed. He climbed down himself, hooking an arm around his back to make sure Olivia wouldn’t fall. Tom raised his free hand to his forehead in a salute.

            “To the kitchen soldiers!” Henry and James scrambled off the bed, their little feet thumping to the hardwood as they dropped from the edge of the mattress. They left their bears in a heap in our bedroom. “Move out! Move out!”

            Our little troop of soldiers scuttled from one end of the house to the other. Not long after we’d gotten married, Tom and I had bought a house in the country outside London. When we found out I was pregnant with the twins—the babies conceived on our wedding night—we were glad to have room for them to run and grow. And being out in the country was safer for them than being in the city.

            The kitchen was large and airy, painted a vibrant blue that reminded me of Tom’s eyes. An island counter with a sink and set of bar stools dominated the center of the room. One by one, Tom placed the children on their own stool, making sure Olivia was firmly in her booster seat before scooting her close to the counter. Henry and James begged for chocolate milk while Olivia asked quietly for some apple juice. My husband began to bustle around the kitchen pulling down plates and sippy-cups.

            I cleared my throat and leaned against the counter, waiting for Tom to realize the obvious. He looked over his shoulder to see me bouncing Will in my arms with a grin on my face. “Oh, right!”

_Tom’s POV_

            The last five years of my life had been some of the best I’d ever known. Waking up next to Annie every morning was more than I could ever have asked for. I’d seen her on her best days and her worst. And I had been lucky enough to watch her grow round with my child three times. She’d gotten more beautiful as the days passed, even when she was tired and harried from chasing the twins or from being up all night with Olivia when she had a fever.

            Sunlight poured in through the window, turning Annie’s hair to a burnished bronze as she stood over the stove. The pan in front of her sizzled with the bread and eggs as she cooked breakfast for the kids. James slapped his hands on the counter and begged her to flip them like a pancake. A smile lit her face as she shook the pan and flicked her wrist. The food wobbled around the pan before lifting into the air, somersaulting, and landing other-side-down in the skillet.

            “You’re awesome, Mum,” James said with awe, watching as she did it again with another piece.

            “She absolutely is,” I said, rocking my newborn son back and forth in my arms. Will blinked his wide brown eyes and pursed his lips before scrunching his whole face up in a wail. Annie’s head jerked up but I waved her off, doing a quick check of things that might need fixing. Dry nappy, he’d just eaten, no burps. I put my little finger against his lips. Will closed his little fist around my finger and sucked. His eyes started to drift closed almost immediately. “Fourth time around… this is old hat, An.”

            My heart turned upside down in my chest as Annie smiled at me. Her eyes lit up and she looked more beautiful just then than ever before. She looked like the girl who showed up at my student flat in Oxford with blue streaks in her hair. I loved her more and more every day.

            Annie put the food on plates in front of the children and watched as they each bowed their little heads. Henry whispered his prayers, but I was standing close enough to hear him. “Dear God,” he whispered, “thank you for Mummy and Daddy. And for Jamie, Ollie, and the new baby. Thank you for breakfast, ‘cause I’m really hungry. Amen.”

            I couldn’t help but laugh and kiss the top of his head. I kissed all four of my kids and thanked God for every single moment I’d had with them. “Amen, buddy.” I walked around the island counter and stood beside Annie, watching the slide of her skin and muscle as she cooked breakfast for me.

            My thoughts traveled back to the first morning we had together, the first one I could remember. In my flat in London, almost six years before, I’d woken up to an empty bed and the smell of sausage all through the house. When I went downstairs, there Annie stood at the stove in my shirt cooking a full English. She’d looked up and smiled at me, and my heart melted right in my chest. I knew in that instant that she was everything I ever wanted or needed. I’d known it since I was seventeen, but that moment burned it into my body. Living without her wasn’t a possibility.

            “You don’t have to cook for me, Annie,” I said, leaning against her with our newborn son in my arms.

            She turned her head and found my lips with hers. I felt her mouth curve in a smile. “I know.” Her mossy-green eyes twinkled. “This is mine.”

            Olivia laughed and pointed her little finger at me. “Mummy tricked you! Mummy’s Woki!”

            Annie grinned and leaned over to tap our daughter on the nose. “Mummy can  _always_  trick Daddy. She learned from the very best.”

            I watched my wife—I never got tired of calling her that—moving through the kitchen, standing behind our children and kissing their heads. She whispered funny things in their ears and made them giggle. She had to remind Henry twice to wipe his hands on the paper towel and not his pajamas.

            “If you finish all of your breakfast,” she said, taking a bite of her own. Without a word, she held it out in front of me, the aroma of butter and eggs wafting over me. I took a bite as well. “If you clean your plates, we’ll all go down to the den and watch a movie.”

            “What should Will’s first movie be?” I asked, looking down to see my newborn fast asleep with my little finger held tight in his fist.

            James looked at his baby brother. “Escapo!” he exclaimed.

            My eyes burned with tears. Few of my films were appropriate for my kids to watch at this age, but the boys loved superhero films. We’d watched all my Marvel projects a thousand times, and we often ended up playing Avengers in the back yard. James liked talking to himself and running around the yard shouting for Pepper. Henry liked to tackle me and thump me in the chest with his fists yelling “puny god!” I was always relegated to the role of villain. Olivia much preferred the film I did with the Muppets. She thought it was awesome that I knew Kermit and Miss Piggy. As the Great Escapo, I was the coolest Dad in the world.

            “Muppets it is,” I said, grinning. “Now listen to your mother. Or I’ll call Uncle Sam.”

            Their eyes went wide, and they nearly shoved their food in their mouths. Annie and I laughed, having never quite figured out why they were all so scared of Sam Jackson.


	3. When I Felt Your Hand

_Two years after_ When I See Your Face

            “How are you, An?” Tom asked, his wide-splayed hand rubbing up and down my back. The firm pressure of his fingers eased some of the pain and ache that had settled low in my spine over the past few hours. One of my arms was around his shoulders as he massaged my back in slow, painfully wonderful strokes. “Want to try a walk again?”

            I pressed my forehead against his chest, groaning as another wave of tightness and pain pushed through my body. My stomach was heavy and aching, swollen for the fourth time with pregnancy. Against anything we could have expected, I was on the verge of giving birth to our second set of twins. And I was scared beyond belief. I was forty and afraid that something would go wrong with this pregnancy.

            Tom kissed my hair and touched his free hand to my belly. I was sitting up in our bed at home waiting for our newest additions to come into the world. After three pregnancies and four deliveries, I knew my body enough to realize that it wasn’t time to go to hospital just yet. My water hadn’t even broken.

            “An, I need you to talk to me.” My husband’s voice was firm but calm. Tom was the last person to get overly stressed or worried about things, but he turned into a jumble of nerves when it came to me and hospitals. I’d had complications with Henry and James and the thought of me over forty and having another set of twins scared him to death. I could see it in the tightness of his eyes. Even if he didn’t say anything.

            I spoke through clenched teeth, holding back a groan at the pain rippling around my back and burning into the muscles just above my hips. My whole body hurt, especially between my thighs. It was like my nerves could remember the agony of delivering my other four children. “Just a short walk,” I said, panting slightly.

            Tom backed off the bed, his hands barely leaving my body. He kicked the little footstool to the side of the bed and held on to my hands in a vice grip as I scooted to the edge. My stomach was so swollen that I couldn’t even see my feet, but I could feel that they were swollen. I was swollen halfway up my calves.

            “Lean on me,” he said, one arm tight around my waist and the other gripping my hand tight. He tempered his long strides to my shuffling ones. I could feel the tension in his muscles as he listened to each and every grunt and groan pushing through my lips. “I’ve got you, Annie. I promise.”

            I smiled and squeezed his hand as another wave of contraction came over me. This one was small and disappeared almost as quickly as it came. The contractions were coming thirty to forty minutes apart, and a few of them were lasting a minute or more. It would soon be time to go to the hospital, especially if my water broke anytime soon.

            “I know,” I whispered. Tom’s lips pressed against my temple as we rounded the corner into the family room.

My brother, Anthony, and his wife, Cheyenne, sat on the sofa watching our other children. Their daughters Samantha, who was fourteen, and Caroline, who was eleven, sat in the floor passing two-year-old Will between them. Henry and James were seven now and more concerned with their toy soldiers than their cousins. Olivia was six and thought Anthony was the most amazing uncle in the world. My nieces looked up when I came in, and my brother half stood as if he’d come rushing after me if I fell. I waved him off.

Tom and I were taking a turn through the kitchen when my stomach gave a twinge and something wet rushed down the inside of my thighs. I looked down, even though it didn’t do me any good. I couldn’t see the floor past my belly. Tom’s gaze went to the cold tile. I watched the color ride high on his cheekbones.

“Hospital,” he said, nodding his head as if he was answering someone’s question. Then he raised his voice. “Tony! Get the bag from the bedroom!”

Dr. Jillian smiled as she pressed her hand on my stomach. She’d done the same when I’d been ready to deliver Henry and James to check for each baby’s position. “I think one’s in position. The other will turn as soon as they have room.”

Tom sat beside the bed with his hand on mine. His face was calm and passive, but his leg bounced up and down with nervousness. They were nearly identical to the words she’d said to me seven years earlier, and I was sure Tom remembered what happened afterwards. James hadn’t turned and wanted to come out feet first. The cord was wrapped around his neck. He nearly died, and so had I.

As if she knew what we were thinking, Dr. Jillian put her hand over ours. “Everything will be fine. You’ve done this before, and things are looking like it will be a breeze. A few more centimeters and you’re ready to go.”

She stepped out of the room and I turned to my husband. Tom’s face was slightly pale. But the firm set of his lips told me he was trying to hold all his fears inside. I hated to say what was on my mind, but I needed the promise from him.

“Tom,” I said, my voice shaking. I squeezed my fingers around his. “If something goes wrong… if it’s a choice…”

His eyes jerked up to mine. He went completely white at the mention of another set of complications. “Don’t you dare, Annie. Don’t you dare.”

“Please, Tom. I need you to do this for me.” Tears pricked my eyes as another wave of contractions rolled through my stomach. It was a particularly strong contraction, and the pain of it bowed my body off the bed. Tom darted to the edge of the bed and put both hands on either side of my head. He called my name like he was afraid I was having some sort of fit.

“Annie, relax. Relax,” he said soothingly. His hand stroked down my chest to rub in slow circles low on my stomach. After three pregnancies, he knew where the pain settled. He knew how to make it better. “Relax, sweetheart. You’re making it hurt more.”

A little scream rippled past my lips. Tom’s forehead pressed against mine, his hot breath against my face. “Please, Annie.” He kissed me softly. “Please don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me. Don’t make yourself hurt.”

Dr. Jillian came in just then, a worried crease between her eyes. “Anthea,” she said, rushing to the bedside, “you have to relax. You’re making it worse. You’re going to be fine. I promise. Listen to Tom’s voice.”

My husband whispered in my ear that he loved me. His fingers pressed with just enough pressure at the base of my stomach as he told me about the time we went to the Manchester United football match when we were in university. He whispered about how horribly jealous he was when I squealed about how good looking David Beckham was. As I listened to his words flowing into my ear, I felt the tension uncoiling in my muscles. The ache in my back had nothing to do with the contraction. I felt like a bow stave that had been held under tension for too long, like I couldn’t straighten back out again.

Tom slid his hand beneath my shoulders and scooted me up the bed until the pillows were beneath me. “Don’t scare me like that, An,” he said, stroking my hair back from my forehead.

Dr. Jillian took a few moments to do a quick examination. The little crease between her brows disappeared as she stepped away from the bed. “Nine and a half. I’m going to go get scrubbed up. Annie, we’re going to move you to the delivery table. You’ll be ready by the time I get back.”

“Fucking hell.” Tom was white as a ghost beside me as I doubled over to push. His limbs were filled with tension as he held me up with my back pressed against his chest. I think he was squeezing my hand harder than I was squeezing his. “Holy mother of fucking bollocks.”

I snickered amid the pain. The pressure was almost unbearable, the urge to push so strong that I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to. My heart pounded with fear, afraid something would go wrong again, afraid I would lose one or both of my babies, afraid that I’d be taken away from Tom forever.

“Baby number one is crowning. You’re doing fine, Anthea. On the next one, give me a good hard push,” Dr. Jillian said. She smiled up at me, a twinkle in her eye as she saw my normally composed husband mumbling a string of swears.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.”

I ground my teeth and bore down, Tom holding me up as I was nearly folded in half. It felt like my whole body was being ripped open as I pushed. There was agony and then a flood of relief. An instant of silence and then a piercing cry.

“A girl,” Dr. Jillian said. I watched as a nurse wrapped my newborn daughter in a surgical towel and took her across the room to clean and weigh her. My breath came in great gasping pants as if I’d run a marathon. My mind wanted to collapse into exhaustion, but my body knew there was more work to do. And there was no telling when it would have to be done.

I felt Dr. Jillian’s hand and nearly cried when I heard her next words. “The other is in position. Head first.”

Tom’s body seemed to deflate with relief. He kissed my sweaty temple. “I love you, An.”

Before I could say anything, another ripple rushed through me. The contraction was a force of nature, wrapping around my mind and causing me to bear down. This baby was coming, no matter what I did. And I was glad.

With his new daughter in his arms, Tom looked more exhausted than I felt. His hair stuck up in odd angles from running his hands through it. I could see the little tremor in his hand as he held a bottle to her lips. Our son rested against my chest, his mouth tugging on my nipple as he fed. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to sleep.

“You’re brilliant,” Tom said, smiling tiredly. “Absolutely fucking brilliant.”

I giggled, my eyes closing as my head fell back onto the pillows. “You swear a lot when you’re scared to death, Tom. Did you know that?”

He kissed our daughter’s wispy blond hair and sighed. “Nothing scares me more than losing you or one of them.”

“I love you, Tom,” I said softly, stroking my finger over my son’s round cheek. “You, too, Adam.  And absolutely you, Tessa.”

Tom let out a laugh that startled me. I looked over to see him staring down at Tessa with wonder in his eyes. “We’re going to need a bigger house.”


	4. When I Knew You

_Ten years after_ When I See Your Face

_Tom’s POV_

            I stood with my back against the wall, pain tearing at my throat. It was the burn and ache of tears that wouldn’t come. The smell around me wasn’t helping anything—that horrible bleach and antiseptic scent of hospitals. I looked at the form of my little girl in the hospital bed and felt something inside me drop away. She was fourteen and as beautiful as her mother, but something was wrong with her. Something I couldn’t fix.

            Annie sat at the edge of the bed, her hands wrapped around our daughter’s fingers. Her moss-green eyes were dark with worry as she watched the IV dripping fluid into Olivia’s arm. We were forty-eight with six children now—Henry and James were fifteen, Olivia was fourteen, William was ten, and Adam and Tessa were eight. We should have been at home listening to our teenagers grumble and our other children complain about homework. Instead, we were sitting in a hospital room waiting for a doctor to tell us the last thing we ever wanted to hear.

            “Do you need anything, Liv?” Annie asked, her hand stroking over our daughter’s forehead. Olivia’s skin was pale and clammy, and her eyes looked shiny like she had a fever. Her body looked so small in that bed. “Are you hungry? Do you want me to go home for something? Anything?”

            Olivia shook her head against the pillows. It looked as if it took every last bit of her energy to do it. “Where’s Harry?” she asked. Her voice was so quiet, so very different from the one I heard around the house.

            My wife turned to me with so much pain on her face that I didn’t know what to do with it. “Tom, go find Harry. Please.” She sounded so desperate, so afraid of leaving our child’s side. I couldn’t blame her.

            I crossed the hospital room and leaned over the bed to kiss Olivia on the forehead. My fingers pushed her hair back from her face. “I love you, princess,” I said. I kissed Annie’s hair and went out into the corridor to find my other children.

            Henry and James didn’t like hospitals. They never had, not since they were seven and they’d both fallen out of the tree in the back garden. Henry had broken his left leg in two places. James had fractured his arm. They hadn’t come with us when Annie’s father was dying of heart failure. It was a testament to their love for their sister that they were there at all.

            I found them in a courtyard just off the hospital canteen. My twin sons had grown into handsome and fine young men. They had light brown hair that was a mix of their mother’s and mine, although it curled like mine had when I was young. Their eyes were dark brown with little flecks of green. Both of them were nearly as tall as I was already. They were both in their third year at Eton.

            Will, with his blond curls like mine and his caramel brown eyes, sat at the table beside his brothers. He’d thrown a fit when we tried to leave him with Annie’s mother along with Adam and Tessa. It was only because he was so close to Henry and James that we allowed him to come.

            “Dad?” James asked, fear clouding his eyes. “Something wrong?”

            I rubbed my hand over my forehead and sighed. “She wants Harry. Go sit with her for a while,” I said. The twins looked at one another for a long moment, that unspoken communication they’d had for all their lives passing between them. I was afraid James would be hurt because his sister was asking for Henry and not for him. But he just smiled sadly and pushed his brother out of the chair.

            Surprisingly, Henry wrapped me in a hug as he passed by. His eyes were shining. “Is she gonna be okay, Dad?” he whispered.

            I squeezed my son tight. “I don’t know.”

            Henry pulled away and disappeared into the hospital. I sat at the table beside James and Will, taking comfort in the fact that I had my sons with me. But my mind was never far from my baby girl upstairs.

            The light in the window had gone dark by the time the doctor came back to talk to us. Annie was curled up in the chair beside Olivia’s bed, her head against the wall as she dozed on and off. Henry sat on the bed with his sister. His arm was beneath her pillow and she had her head against his shoulder. James was at the end of the bed with her feet in his lap. Will sat on the window ledge with a book in his lap. I was standing behind Annie watching the rest of my family.

            The doctor stood at the edge of Olivia’s bed, a faint smile on his face. My stomach dropped into my toes the instant I saw it. At that moment I knew… I knew that it wasn’t going to be good. It wasn’t going to be anything we wanted to hear.

            “How do you feel, Liv?” he asked, checking the bag of fluids dripping into her IV.

            Annie pressed her fingers to her lips and reached for my hand. I laced her fingers with mine and squeezed, giving her whatever strength I could pass her. There was no illusion about it in our house—Annie kept our family together. She was the one with the strength and the will to keep us all connected.

            “On a scale of one to ten, what’s your pain?” the doctor asked.

            Olivia’s breath seemed to rattle in her chest. “Seven,” she whispered. At her side, Henry winced.

            The doctor moved around the bed and injected something into my daughter’s IV. I watched as her body relaxed a little once the medication flowed through her veins. It released a little of the pressure in my chest to know that she wasn’t in as much pain. Once he was convinced that Olivia’s pain was eased, the doctor stepped close to me. “May I speak to you and your wife in the corridor?”

            My knees were weak as Annie wrapped her arm around my waist. We left our boys with their sister and closed the door behind us. I stood with my back against the wall, afraid that my legs alone wouldn’t be able to hold me up. Annie leaned against my side. Her hands were shaking as she clutched at my shirt.

            “Mr. and Mrs. Hiddleston, Olivia’s blood work came back this afternoon. She’s severely anemic, and it’s this lack of red blood cells that’s causing her pain. Her tissues aren’t getting enough oxygen. And her platelet count is extremely low. Which is why she’s bleeding so freely from tiny little abrasions and getting nosebleeds so often.” The doctor’s voice was steady and matter-of-fact, but his face was pale and slightly sad.

            “What can you do? How do we treat it?” Annie asked. Her strength was awe inspiring. She went straight to the problem at hand, trying to figure out how to take care of our family. How to make sure our baby girl was safe, happy, and healthy.

            The doctor’s expression saddened even more. “Mrs. Hiddleston, there’s more to the problem. Her white blood cell count—specifically her granulocytes—is through the roof. I’m diagnosing her with acute granulocytic leukemia.”

            That was it. That one word did it. My whole body crumpled. I didn’t realize I was on the floor until Annie was crouching next to me, her arms around my shoulders as I sobbed into my hands. It was like the entire world had imploded around me. My baby girl, the little girl I’d held in my arms the second she was born, was sick and I couldn’t do anything to fix it. I felt sick and dizzy.

            “With chemotherapy and radiation, we can try to treat it. We can manage her pain and do our best to make every day as comfortable as possible. And there are treatment options we can try… bone marrow transplants. We can test your entire family if you want,” the doctor said, kneeling next to me as well. “If you let me, Mr. Hiddleston, I will fight for your daughter as hard as you will.”

            My vision was blurry with tears as I looked between Olivia’s doctor and my wife. Annie’s eyes glistened, but her cheeks were dry. I knew her well enough to know that she was in crisis mode. She’d let herself feel this later, and we’d hold each other and cry together. My wife curled her hands around the back of my neck and kissed me softly.

            “We have to do this for Olivia, Tom,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to mine. “She needs us to be strong right now.”

            I nodded, taking a deep breath as I unfolded myself from the floor. Annie tried to smile as her fingers wiped at the tears beneath my eyes. My arms went around her and held her tight against my chest. I felt her heart beating against my ribs. I wanted to tear my heart out and trade places with my little girl. The look on Annie’s face told me she was thinking the same thing.

            Fighting for our little girl had suddenly become our priority.

_Six months later_

            Olivia sat on a blanket in the back garden. The sun was shining in a sky that was bright blue. It was unusually warm for Britain in May, but we intended to take full advantage of it. Annie sat beside her, one arm curled behind our daughter to support her. Henry and James sat around their sister, the two of them gravitating toward her as if they could protect her. Will had his head on a pillow by Olivia’s feet and a comic book open on his chest. Adam was swinging on the tire swing tied to the oak that grew in the center of the garden. His twin sister Tessa picked blossoms from Annie’s flower beds and tied them into a bouquet with a ribbon.

            I stood in the kitchen, looking out the window at my wife and children as I loaded a plate down with sandwiches. A good number of them were for Olivia, whose appetite had come back with gusto in the past few weeks. Chemotherapy had made her nauseous and caused her to lose weight. But after this round was over, she’d recovered more quickly than any of us could have expected.

            Now she was in remission, and we would enjoy every second of her health that we had. We would fight through the bad and be thankful for the good.

            But we would never give up.


	5. When Nothing Happens

_A few days after_ When I Knew You

            I sneezed as dust worked its way up my nose. My hands smelled of Pledge and wood polish. It was warm day in the country, and I had all the windows open to let in the fresh air. May was remarkably warm and bright. It had rained the night before, so the grass outside was soaked and soggy. Otherwise we would have been outside enjoying the sunshine. I hoped the breeze might make Olivia feel better as it took the musty smell out of the closed off rooms.

            From my place on the ladder in the family room, I could hear my children throughout the house. Adam and Tessa were in the den watching  _Prince of Persia_  and arguing about whether or not Adam would make a good Prince Dastan. Will was in his bedroom playing videogames. James was outside walking across the field to the small stable Tom had built. He liked to spend time with the horses when he was worried. Henry was in Olivia’s room, keeping an eye on her and reading. It sounded like Keats or Byron. Something from their father’s bookshelves.

            The front door opened, and I heard the rustle of paper grocery sacks. Tom carried great armfuls of bags—anything and everything Olivia loved to eat. My husband was beyond delighted that our oldest daughter had gotten her appetite back after finishing chemotherapy. It seemed he would feed her until she wasn’t hungry any longer. And then perhaps a bit more after that.

            “Hello, love,” I said, watching Tom carry the groceries into the kitchen from my perch. “Have a good trip to the market?”

            Tom poked his head around the doorframe. “They were out of those chocolate covered things she likes. Think she’ll be mad?”

            I smiled as I climbed back down the ladder. “She’ll be fine. I don’t think she’s going to hate you because the market was out of chocolate cherries.”

            He grinned and disappeared back into the kitchen to finish putting up groceries. I wiped my hands on my worn out jeans and left the rag and Pledge on the table. When I rounded the corner, Tom had his head stuck in the fridge as he rearranged Tupperware containers and bottles to push an entire watermelon onto the shelf. I put my hand over my mouth and giggled.

            “What?” he asked, his brows lifting in confusion. I took a moment to look at my husband, at the man I’d loved all my life. We were in our late forties, but aging had only made Tom more handsome. He wore a trimmed beard almost all the time now, and the reddish-brown whiskers had a bit of grey in them. His hair was its natural blond, but it was going grey at his temples. There were lines around his eyes and mouth that showed up when he laughed or smiled. All this time, Tom had grown slowly into a man who was even more handsome at middle age than he had been in his early twenties.

            “Do you intend her to eat that whole thing?” I bit my lip hard to keep from laughing out loud.

            Tom rolled his bright blue eyes and shut the door. “Not in one sitting.”

            I crossed the kitchen and wrapped my arms around Tom’s waist, my chin pressed against his chest. He craned his neck to look down at me. After a moment, he spoke. “This is highly uncomfortable, you know.”

            Grinning, I turned my head to rest my cheek on his chest above his heart. I could hear it beating beneath my ear, the most comforting sound in the whole world. No matter what happened, how scared or frustrated I became,  _that sound_  could always make things better.

            “What is that smell?” Tom asked, his voice making me think he had that look on his face again. That look where his nose was all scrunched up and his mouth twisted in a grimace. What I affectionately called the  _Prince Hal look_.

            I held my hand up to his nose and laughed when he recoiled. “Pledge. Wood polish. Dust.” I thumped him playfully in the shoulder with every word. “Cleaning smells.”

            “Ghastly things. Cleaning smells.” I felt the rumble of his laughter in his chest and squeezed him tighter.

            “How would you know? You haven’t cleaned a single thing since we moved in!” My face was scowling, but my voice was barely discernible beneath the laughter.

            Tom poked his finger playfully against the end of my nose. “Nappies! I’ve changed loads of nappies. And baths!”

            I rolled my eyes and tapped my finger on his nose in return. “Father! What you’re supposed to do.”

            My husband wrapped his arms tight around my waist and lifted me off my feet. After six children, I was still surprised that he could. I was under no illusions that I was the same size as when we got married. But amazingly—or perhaps not really—Tom seemed to find me more attractive now than he had five, ten, or fifteen years ago.

            His lips touched mine softly. “Husband,” he whispered, his hips pressed against mine. Heat rushed into my cheeks. “I haven’t been the best of one lately.”

            I tucked my arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. “You’ve been absolutely brilliant. And don’t you ever think different.”

            Tom set me back on my feet and turned me around in his arms. “Dear God, please wash your hands,” he grumbled, walking us toward the sink. He reached around me to turn on the water.

            I had to lean forward to get my hands under the faucet. The movement pushed my hips back, pressing them firmly against Tom’s. I heard him groan low in his throat as his arms tightened around my waist. My blood turned to fire as he pressed his hips forward, trapping me between his body and the counter. His breath was hot against the side of my neck, his lips warm and soft.

            “Seriously!” We both whipped our heads to the kitchen doorway, where James was tracking mud in from the garden. “You two are like teenagers. No wonder there’s six of us.”

            Our son looked thoroughly embarrassed while Tom and I just dissolved into laughter. Tom was the first to recover. “There’d have been more if I’d been able to convince your mum to go on location with me.”

            James covered his ears and wailed. “Dad!” He made gagging sounds.

            “There was that one time,” I said, a dreamy look on my face. “In New Zealand, remember?”

            “Damn right I do,” Tom smirked.

            “Oh, God, you’re going to make me sick.” With that, James turned around and tracked another layer of thick, sticky mud through the house.

            I took one look at the mess of my floors and shouted down the hallway. “James Nicholas Hiddleston! Get your arse back here and clean this mess up.”

            Behind me, Tom was laughing. I whirled around and gave him a grimace, but he didn’t back down. He just looked right back, his arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t you wish for a day when nothing happens?”


	6. When You Needed Me

_Six months after_ When Nothing Happens

            Once more, we sat in the hospital. Olivia had been feeling weak again, showing symptoms like she had a year before. She was sitting up in the bed with her brothers and sister around her. Tessa was carefully brushing and braiding Olivia’s brown curls. Olivia looked much better than she had before, but she was still pale. Pale, but still looking much better than I than I would have expected.

            Dr. Holland stepped inside, smiling as he closed the door. He had been with us since he diagnosed her with leukemia the year before. “How’s the Hiddleston clan today?” His cheery mood lightened my worry just a bit.

            Olivia smiled back, a little bit of color coming back in her cheeks. “Tired,” she said softly. “But okay.”

            Tom was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked slightly sick himself. “How do things look?”

            Dr. Holland nodded and checked Olivia’s IV. “Not bad at all,” he said. “Her numbers are going a little wonky, but if we can catch this early we can stave off some of the worst of the symptoms.”

            I watched the doctor as he examined Olivia. He bustled around her bed checking her pulse, her heart sounds, anything and everything that could be wrong with her. I was slightly terrified that he needed to check so many things.

            “Well, things look good. Tom, Annie, can I speak to you both in the hallway?”

            I looked up at Tom and felt his fingers close around mine. We both leaned over to kiss Olivia’s forehead before following the doctor out into the hall. I squeezed Tom’s hand, slightly terrified because the last time Dr. Holland pulled us into the corridor to talk about Olivia, he’d told us she was sick. I didn’t want to hear what he wanted to say. None of it could be good.

            Tom’s free hand tapped against his leg. His nervousness was evident in every muscle in his body. He pressed his back against the wall as he waited for the doctor to speak.

            “Olivia’s blood work looks good. But her symptoms starting again… it makes me slightly afraid that she’s coming out of remission. Chemotherapy is an option, but I think it might be time to discuss a bone marrow transplant.”

            I sank against Tom’s side, part of me uncertain about what he meant. A transplant was a serious procedure, one that we weren’t sure Olivia could endure even on her best day. But Dr. Holland seemed to think it was a good idea. Perhaps even a necessary one.

            “When do you want to do it?” I asked, nervously biting my fingernail. “You’ve tested all of us. Who’s a match for her?”

            Tom looked from me, to the door of our daughter’s room, to the doctor. I saw the fear in his blue eyes and knew the instant he worked it all out. “None of us is a good enough match. Not what she needs.”

            I put my hands over my mouth to stop the whimper from coming out. If no one in the family could donate to her, there was no knowing when a suitable donor would be found. I didn’t want to worry about what would happen if we had to wait…

            “Can’t one of us donate, at least until another donor can be found?”

            Dr. Holland shook his head. “Not without causing more problems than would be fixed. If we have to go through a donor registry, it could take weeks or months to find a suitable match. Some of you—your twins Henry and James—are a close match, but not perfect. If we have to, we can resort to them as donors. But I’d like to do whatever it takes to find the best possible match.”

            Tom sighed and gave me a sidelong look. “We’ll talk about it. And let you know what we decide.”

            When we got home that night, Tom and I sat up into the wee hours of the morning talking about what to do. We talked about the best thing to do. In the end, we decided to ask my brother to get tested and Tom’s sisters. Cheyenne wanted to go as well, and both Samantha and Caroline told their parents they wanted to help.

            It was two days later when my mobile rang with a number I didn’t recognize. My heart nearly stopped when I heard the voice on the other end. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in person for nearly ten years. “Hi, Annie.”

            “Ben?” My heart felt like lead in my chest. I didn’t know what to think.

            “How’ve you been?” Benedict’s voice was soft and slightly worried. I had a sudden flash of melting-snow-blue eyes and dark curls.

            I cleared my throat and looked around as if the whole world was watching. “Good. You?”

            “Good.” He was quiet for a moment, and I imagined he was pacing his sitting room rubbing the back of his neck. I’d seen him do it more times than I could count. “I heard about Olivia. Is there anything I can do?”

            I opened my mouth to say no but stopped myself. Everything came down to my little girl. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. “Actually,” I said softly, “there is.”

            Without hesitation, Benedict said, “Tell me what to do.”

            “Meet me at the hospital tomorrow morning.”

            Benedict Cumberbatch, my ex-boyfriend, ex-fiancé, ex-everything, was a perfect match for my daughter.

            Tom and I sat in the waiting room. Olivia was in surgery. Our little girl was getting a second chance at life because of the man who I’d nearly married. Both Tom and I were grateful beyond words for what Benedict was doing for us. He was saving her life, sparing her from chemotherapy and radiation treatments that would make her sick and steal her joy. Maybe this time she’d do better.

            I kept my head on my husband’s shoulder throughout the whole thing. I was afraid that I’d never see her again. That something would go wrong. And I was afraid to admit to Tom that I was worried about Benedict.

            “Go on,” Tom said softly, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. We were standing in the hallway outside Benedict’s hospital room. He was lying on his stomach on the bed. His hair was straight and gingery, his eyes their sunlight-on-water blue. “I won’t be mad.”

            I pushed through the door and pulled a chair next to the bed. Tom was standing by the door, not to listen in but to offer his support. Benedict still looked a little loopy when he opened his eyes. Mine were flooded with tears.

            “Hey,” I whispered, afraid the painkillers would have given him a headache. “How do you feel?”

            Benedict smiled, that smile I knew so well. The one that could still melt my heart just a little. “How is she?”

            My throat ached with tears and gratitude that I couldn’t put words to. “Dr. Holland says she’s going to be fine. And you might have given her several healthy years.” I pressed one hand to my lips and the other to his cheek. Benedict was in his early fifties now, but as brilliant, kind, and handsome as he had been that day I met him. “Thank you.”

            He turned his head and kissed my palm. “You don’t have to thank me, Annie. I told you a long time ago that I’d do anything to make sure you were happy. I’m just glad it was me. At least I can watch her grow up. All of them—your kids. You and Tom… you were made for each other. As long as you’re happy, I’ll never regret what I’ve done.”

            I leaned over and kissed his forehead, feeling the faint lines and wrinkles beneath my lips. He was getting older. We all were.

            A hand settled on my shoulder. I looked up to see my husband standing beside me, his eyes shining with tears. His other hand went around Benedict’s. I watched as the two men who had been the loves of my life, who had barely spoken in ten years, looked at each other like brothers.

            “Thank you,” Tom said. His voice was ragged and thick, like he couldn’t make himself speak. “Thank you so much, Ben.”

            “You needed me.” He said the words to Tom, but I felt them in my heart and knew they were meant for me. Benedict still loved me after all this time.

            And I could never thank him enough for it.


	7. When You Were Mine

_Several years after_ When I’m Gone

_Benedict’s POV_

            Martin sat inside my trailer as we waited for the next scene to be set up. My script was open on the table in front of me, but I wasn’t really seeing the words. This was series six of  _Sherlock_  and I was suddenly getting tired of the role. There were too many memories in the part, the costume, the sets, everything. Annie was lurking around every corner, and it just make me burn from the inside out.

            I missed her in a way I couldn’t explain.

            “You know, she turned down another episode.” Martin’s words barely penetrated the fog that surrounded my brain. I could barely think straight on the best of days, and today wasn’t a good day. It was her birthday.

            “Hmm?” I’d heard him just fine, but I couldn’t help wanting him to talk more about her. Anthea Gatiss haunted my steps.

            “Annie. Mark and Steven actually went up to her house to ask her to write another one. She refused. Again.” Martin sounded kind of sad about the fact, something I couldn’t really blame him for. Annie’s episodes were fan favorites. They were  _my_  favorites. “She’s refused three different episodes, Ben.”

            I ran my hand through my hair, ruffling the curls that hair had spent twenty minutes getting right. At that point, I didn’t care that someone would probably say something. “She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. Annie—Annie was…  _is_ so good at this. She was born to write this stuff. It’s not the show she doesn’t want to work with. It’s me.”

            “You bloody well know that isn’t true.”

            I honestly felt like I was going to be sick. Before I could say anything, a PA poked her head in the door and called us to set. An ache throbbed behind my eyes when I looked at her. She had long brown hair like Annie’s. My heart turned over as I remembered all the times I’d had that hair wrapped around my fingers.  _God, can this day end now?_

            I’d moved out of the Cardiff flat the day Annie and I separated. I couldn’t bring myself to come back to that place. Sometimes I drove by the building and felt my heart lurch in my chest the second I turned up the street. But I hadn’t been inside in years. I hadn’t even gone in to pack my things. Martin had been kind enough to do it for me.

            My new flat was on the other side of the city. I sat on the edge of the bed in the wee hours of the morning wondering what exactly I’d done. The bed behind me dipped as the girl rolled over, sighing. It was the PA from the set, the one with the long brown hair like Annie’s. She was stretched out on her stomach in my bed, her hair spilling over the pillow and her pale skin shining in the moonlight coming through the window.

            I put my head in my hands and groaned. What the fuck had gotten in to me?

            Anthea Gatiss. That’s what. She’d gotten into my head and my heart and my soul. And there was absolutely no way to get her out.

            Rain sluiced against the windows as everything rushed headlong into autumn. I felt like a complete and utter arse after what I’d done to the girl on set. She didn’t deserve to have her feelings played with like that, but it was remarkably surprising that she didn’t really care. I wasn’t that good in bed, was I?

            Filming was over and I was back in London. Hidden under a wide umbrella, I walked down the street in central city. With my jacket collar turned up and a cap pulled low over my brow, no one really noticed me. It was nice to be able to relax and not have people following me all over the damn place.

            I was halfway down the block when I saw them standing inside the doorway of an old building. I recognized her in an instant from the way she stood and the sound of her laugh. Annie’s skin was glowing, her cheeks full and flushed. Something in her eyes danced and twinkled. Her brown hair that had been long and flowing was now trimmed just above her shoulders. From where I stood, it looked lighter.

            Tom stood beside her, smiling down at her with his hand on her belly. It was only then that I noticed that she was pregnant.  _Very_  pregnant.

            I thought about turning around and walking back the way I’d come. My heart ached. Before I could move away, I saw the look on her face change. The smile slipped almost like it had been slapped away. I watched her fingers wrap into his shirt and give a tug. His smile disappeared just as quickly, but his eyes never left her. I could only imagine he thought she was going into labor.

            My eyes were glued to her lips as they formed around my name. Tom’s head jerked up as she indicated where I was.

            There was no going back now. My hand tightened on my umbrella as I put one foot in front of the other. Water splashed up from the sidewalk onto the bottom of my pants. I was five feet away when she spoke.

            “Ben.” One syllable, three little letters, but so much power that it felt like a punch to the chest. I couldn’t help but remember how that word had sounded in the dimness of our bedroom as it panted past her lips. But the thought was quickly chased away with the right-in-my-face proof that she was saying his name like that now.

            I forced a smile. “Annie. Tom.” Against my better judgment, I stepped into the doorway with them and shook my umbrella out over the street.

            Surprise pushed me back against the wall when Annie put her arms around me and hugged me tightly. “How have you been?”

            In my peripheral vision, I saw Tom’s jaw clench momentarily. Then his hand smoothed over Annie’s back and the smile returned. I saw the ring glinting on Annie’s hand, an engagement ring twice the size of the one I gave her and a white gold band studded with tiny diamonds. Tom’s wedding band was plain gold.

            “Good. Series six wrapped last week,” I said, relaxing despite myself. Being with Annie was like no time at all had passed. She still made my heart race. My eyes fell to her belly and I felt myself smiling widely. “Look at you!”

            That smile of hers was back, and it was absolutely dazzling. Brilliant beyond brilliant. Annie put her hand to the swell of her stomach and sighed happily. Tom stood proudly beside her. Suddenly, I found I couldn’t be so unhappy when I saw her so vibrant and happy.

            “How long?” I asked, looking between the two of them.

            “Due any day now,” Tom said, looking slightly uncomfortable. I remembered a time when we had been friends. I supposed we still were, but the idea that we’d both slept with the woman in front of us was enough to put a bit of a damper on that friendship. Fixing that would be a bit of an issue, I suppose.

            “A little girl,” Annie said with a wide grin. Tom looked beside himself with pride. “Number three.”

            “Three girls!” I shouted, feeling my eyebrows jutting up.

            Annie laughed, the sound turning my blood to gold. “No. Baby number three. We’ve got two boys already. Twins.”

            “Twins… wow.” My fingers twitched. I lifted my palm and held it out. “May I?”

            She flicked her eyes to her husband’s, asking his permission. Maybe I was fooling myself, but she seemed to want me to touch her. I was surprised when Tom shrugged. Annie wrapped her fingers around my hand and pulled my palm to her swollen stomach. Her body was warm beneath my hand, and I felt a momentary twinge for the past. I wished—just for an instant—that I was feeling  _my_ baby kicking in her womb.

            A foot pressed against my hand and thumped a few times. “Have you picked out a name yet?”

            Grinning, Annie leaned her head against Tom’s shoulder. I found that I didn’t begrudge her any of it. “Olivia Alexandera.”

            “Beautiful,” I said, looking into Annie’s greenish-brown eyes. She smiled again in that way that you smile at a cousin or a brother. “She’ll be just like you.”

            A clap of thunder rolled over the streets, shaking the buildings around us. Annie jumped and laughed, her hand over her heart. Tom gave me a long look before he held out his hand. I took it and found myself drawn into a one armed embrace.

            We parted ways into the storm. My heart was wondrously lighter than it had been when I came back to London. Perhaps this chance meeting was exactly what I needed.

            Annie had her baby two days later. Tom texted me a picture. I was right, she was as beautiful as her mother.

            I’d seen it in Annie’s eyes that night in the rain. She might have loved me when we were together, but she was whole-heartedly devoted to Tom. I could never have been everything she needed, no matter how hard I tried. Her decision had been as much for my happiness as for hers. And I finally found that I understood it. That I thanked her for it.

            I had been a better version of myself with Anthea Gatiss. And I knew I could be that man again. I would find the best part of myself and live it. Because she did still love me, I could see it in her eyes. That was enough to get on with.

            And I could hope that one day I’d find someone who made me feel like Annie had.


	8. When You Belong With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "You Belong With Me" by what's her face. I don't like her anymore. But you know who I mean.

July 1996

            The light went on in the bedroom just across the garden wall. I watched Tom’s shadow move across the shade as he walked through his room. I find myself missing the outline of his riotous curls, the ones he cut off when he went away to Eton. Even through the haze of the shade, I can make out the wide set of his shoulders that have gotten stronger as he’s gotten older.

            I wonder if he’s thinking of me. If we’re going to talk again tonight.

            For what seems like hours, I wait. I wait and I watch his shadow passing to and fro in the pale yellow light of his bedroom. Darkness falls between our houses, hitting the garden wall like a heavy curtain. The light across the way clicks off, and I try not to cry.

            I tug the blankets tighter over my chest and fold the cover back over my notebook. Half the pages are missing and there are little black dots of marker that have bled through all the notes I’ve written and held up at the window for Tom to see. I was tired and my head hurt, the early stages of chicken pox confining me to the house and away from everyone else. Tom had chicken pox before we even moved in next door—way back when I was six years old—but he still hasn’t come to visit.

            It made me wonder if Eton had changed him. If I was too plain and poor for him now.

            Something shone in my peripheral vision. I looked up to see the weak amber beam of a flashlight dancing against my windowpane. The shade on Tom’s window was up and he stood at the glass, a grey shirt with the Eton crest on the front sitting comfortably against his chest. He put flashlight on the desk beside him and waved, that disarming smile of his shining through the darkness. He held up a pad of white paper, a message scrawled across it in his beloved handwriting.

             _U feel ok?_

            I smiled and reached for my notebook. I pulled the blankets off the bed and curled up on the chair in front of the window. Tom turned his paper around and scrawled something else. He was holding up the note before I even finished my response to the first one.

             _U look like hell. Sorry._

            Rolling my eyes, I finished my answer to his question and jotted down a response to his oh-so-kind assessment. I leaned forward and pressed my sheet to the glass.

             _I’m feel like crap._

_Gee, thanks! Arse._

            Tom laughed, his hand rushing over the page in front of him. I flipped to another sheet of paper and tapped my marker against the side of my thigh. The light from Tom’s lamp highlighted the growing sharpness of his features. It was the first time I realized how much like a man he was becoming. He wasn’t the boy I’d grown up with anymore.

            Another page flashed in the window.

             _Love you, Annie_.

            My heart thumped. Adolescent longing poured into my veins and I wished with all my heart that Tom was there and that he meant those words the way I wanted him to mean them. My fingers shook as I wrote out a response.

             _Love you, Tom_.

            I drew a heart on the side of the paper and scribbled  _Tom & Annie 4ever _inside it. I hoped he’d take it as a joke and not the declaration of love I wished for.

            With the paper pressed against the window, I looked away. A blush burned my cheeks beneath the reddened spots of chicken pox. I didn’t know whether the heat flowing over me was embarrassment, love, or just a fever. My head throbbed painfully, and I tried so hard to keep my vision clear. For some reason, I found I wanted to cry.

            The beam of a flashlight blinked on the wall—Tom’s signal that he wanted to talk. I pulled my page from view and looked across the space between us. The words written on the paper sticking to his window were written neatly and carefully.

             _Formal this year?_

            He looked at me with his expectant blue eyes, a quizzical smile on his angelic face. I was in my third year at the public college, the year students were allowed to attend formal dances. Ever since my first day, I could talk of nothing else but the day I would get to put on a pretty dress and dance with my friends. There were people I knew at school who would be good companions and would make sure I had a good time. But I didn’t just want to go with a bunch of friends. I wanted to go with someone who would dance with me and walk me home and tell me I was pretty.

            I wanted to go with Tom.

            But I didn’t know how to say it.

            Looking across at him, I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. My reply was tremulous, the shaking of my fingers evident in the wobbly black letters on the page.

             _Doubt it. No 1 to go with._

            Even from my room, I could see the way Tom rolled his eyes. He bent over his page, his face a mask of determination. Whatever he was writing seemed to be terribly important to him. I watched him rip off one sheet of paper and ball it into the trash. He started his missive all over again.

            He held up the third try for me to read.

             _Winter formal. You & me. Swear._

            I knew I was blushing. And the smile on my face couldn’t have been wider if he’d told me he loved me and meant it in the way I always prayed. I took my time writing out an answer, even though it was only a single word.

             _Seriously?_

            Tom nodded vigorously. Then he stood and pushed up his window, leaning his body out the opening. I tossed my notepad onto the bed and struggled with my own window. The fever had made me weak and exhausted. But I wasn’t going to stop whatever had just happened.

            “Go to formal with me, Annie,” Tom said. His voice was serious and quiet, but I heard him as if he’d shouted it from his rooftop.

            “You mean it?” I sounded breathless, and I couldn’t tell if it was from exertion or enthusiasm.

            “Of course I mean it! I’ll come back from Eton. Just for you.”

            I smiled and nodded, my moss-brown eyes meeting his dark blue ones. “Okay.”

            “Love you, Annie.”

            “Love you, Tom.”


	9. When Time Flies

_August 1993_

           “Annie, you have to help me!” Tom whined as he leapt over the stone wall between our houses. He looked practically terrified with his pale face and wide blue eyes.

           I pulled myself up from the place on the back steps, throwing my Walkman on the grass in my rush. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

           Tom flopped down on the wall and put his head in his hands. “They can’t make me do it, Annie! They can’t!”

           Fear made my tongue taste metallic. I spared a glance over the wall toward the Hiddleston house and wondered if his parents had been having a row when they were talking about Sarah’s university decision. I didn’t like to think of Tom listening to his parents fight.

           “I’m going back to school next week, and I’m not spending my last free weekend doing that!”

           I rolled my eyes, quickly realizing that it wasn’t as bad as I imagined. At least, it probably wasn’t.

           I sat on the wall beside him and pulled my knees up to my chin, peering over at him. His profile had gotten stronger, a little less babyish, once puberty started to set in. I blushed thinking that my best friend was so cute. “For God’s sake, Tom, what is it?”

           He moaned and ran his hands through his hair, messing it up adorably. “Sarah and Emma want to go to the cinema tomorrow. And they’re making me go see a  _girl_  movie!”

           I couldn’t help the fact that I started to giggle. My hand flew over my mouth. “I’m sorry! Really!” A snicker burst out. “But… but that’s  _it_?”

           Jerking his head up, Tom looked at me with a frustrated sneer. “You’re impossible!”

           He jumped to his feet and clambered back over the wall, muttering under his breath the whole time.

           That night, I opened my bedroom window, hoping to get the last little bits of summer before the cold came. When I lifted the blinds, I saw Tom sitting in his window, staring dejectedly across the space between our houses. I gave him a small smile and picked up the pad of paper I kept there. I scrawled something quickly, in big black letters. Then I held it up to the window.

            _U ok?_

           Tom disappeared for a moment. When he came back, he had a stack of paper in his hands. His blond head bent, then paper flashed up.

            _I’m sorry._

           I shrugged, hoping he would take it the way I meant it. Whenever Tom Hiddleston was concerned, there wasn’t much I could do to stay mad at him. I tapped my pen against my chin, wondering what to say. My mind started to spin and finally landed on an idea. I put pen to paper and then held the pad up for him to see.

            _What R U seeing at cinema?_

           Tom’s face went red as he scribbled. He made a face when he showed me the paper.

            _Much Ado About Nothing_.

           He’d drawn a sick face on the bottom of the paper. It made me giggle.

           Without thinking, I wrote my reply.

            _Want me 2 go 2? ****_

For a moment, I thought I saw Tom’s eyes flicker with light. I smiled at him, shrugging in that way that I hoped made me look cool. I saw him nod just before he dropped the blinds on his window. Shadows moved across the blinds for a moment before the lights went out.

           “Mum gave me pocket money,” I said proudly as I slid into the back of Mrs. Hiddleston’s car. “I can pay for myself.”

           She looked back in the rearview mirror and shook her head. “Nonsense, Annie, dear. Tom brought extra just for you.”

           I heard the insinuation in her voice and fought to not look at Tom. When I did spare a glace out the corner of my eye, I saw a blush begin to work all the way up to his ears. I gave him a nudge with my foot and grinned.

           “Popcorn and Cokes are on me then.”

           Emma sat on Tom’s other side, looking past her brother and grinning at me. I made a face, happy to see her giggle in response. Sarah was in the front seat, acting very much the adult she was becoming. I was suddenly very jealous of the way she looked so grown up. I sat up straight, pushing my shoulders back and trying to look aloof and adultish.

           When we got to the cinema, Tom lagged behind his sisters and his mother. I fell into step beside him, my hands stuffed in my pockets. He kept clearing his throat and looking at me before looking away again. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was trying to screw up his courage to ask me something terribly important.

           “Look,” he said, kicking his toe against the sidewalk. “Thanks for coming and all… but… I’ve told Mum I didn’t want to sit with them. You and I can sit in the back near the doors.”

           Heat rushed to my face. I heard the upper girls and their gossip at school. The back of the cinema was for couples, where they could hide and make out. I blushed even brighter.

           Tom must have noticed because he quickly stammered out, “I… I’m gonna sneak out. When the movie gets started, I’m sneaking into the  _Terminator_  show.”

           It was difficult for me to keep the feeling of rejection out of my face. I tucked my hair behind my ears with shaking hands. I gave him my widest best friend smile. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll cover for you.”

           We went in and found our seats. I could hear Emma asking Mrs. Hiddleston why we weren’t sitting with them. There were two seats right by the door, and I took the one on the inside. Almost as soon as Tom sat down he began bouncing his legs, itching to get away. I couldn’t help the fact that it made me feel like he wanted to get away from me.

           After all, he hadn’t even asked me to sneak into the other movie with him.

           I pulled my knees up, resting my chin on them as the house lights went down and the previews came up. I barely noticed any of them. The last time Tom and I had been in the theater, we’d seen  _Jurassic Park_ together. It felt like a long time had passed since then.

           When the movie started, it was as if I could feel Tom’s presence in the seat beside me. I was waiting for the moment when he slipped away into the other theater, leaving me to make excuses whenever his mum came by. With a sigh, I comforted myself that at least Keanu Reeves was in this one. And he was pretty attractive.

           Music swelled, the screen filled with the sight of spears, flags, and horses.  _Even if Tom does sneak out, this looks like it’ll be good._

           “Wow…”

           I turned to see Tom still sitting next to me, his eyes glued onto the screen. The look on his face was so wonderful that I couldn’t bring myself to look away. We might have paid £3 to see the movie, but I spent the whole time watching Tom.

           My heart rushed with something I couldn’t identify. Instead, I reached out and took Tom’s hand in mine. His fingers laced between my own, and we sat in silence until the house lights came up again.


	10. When We're All Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a character named Wren, who comes from a sequel story written by NotSoMolly on Tumblr. You can find that story here: https://notsomolly.tumblr.com/B2B

_Eight years after_ When I’m Gone.

            “Right, have we got everyone?” I asked, looking over the little costumed trio standing in the hall. I held the baby bundled in my arms. He was barely a year old and currently dressed in a Winnie the Pooh onesie complete with a hood and a bottle made up to look like a honey jar. In front of me stood a pirate, Harry Potter, and a ninja.

            “Girls aren’t pirates!” James taunted, making a face at Olivia. “Only boys can be pirates, right, Dad?”

            Tom looked up at me and rolled his eyes. He looked quite dashing in his black cardigan and jeans, his hair now a golden auburn and curling like it had when we were young. Tom playfully tugged at the hood covering James’s head, revealing his tousled curls. “Then you can’t be a ninja. Because you aren’t fast or quiet.”

            Henry pointed at his twin and giggled. Then he stuck his wand up his nose. “Harry!” I cried, exasperated. I balanced Will in my arms with one hand and reached out to snatch the toy from my oldest’s hand. “Don’t do that! You’ll poke your brain.”

            “And he don’t have many brains,” James said, sticking out his tongue.

            “ _Doesn’t_ have many, James. Doesn’t.”

            I hid a smile as Tom instructed James on proper grammar. That had started the second the children were born. We had the only toddlers in the village who had perfect syntax and nearly flawless grammar. My husband looked over at me and winked. I felt a blush run across my cheeks. My hair was twisted up into a ponytail and I wore jeans and a simple jumper. But one look from Tom, even after nearly eight years of marriage, made me feel like a princess.

            “Come on. It’s a long walk to the next house.”

            “Mum, can we go over the gate? Please?” Olivia tugged on the end of my jumper and stuck out her lower lip.

            “No, Liv. We’re not going over the gate. We’ll go down to the road. It isn’t like Uncle Ben and Aunt Wren are going anywhere.” I smiled brightly at the look of pure adoration on my daughter’s face. She’d taken quite a liking to Benedict once he came back into our lives. She loved him almost as much as she loved her father. “If you behave yourself, I’ll let you stay and go trick-or-treating with Nellie. If it’s okay with Wren.”

            Olivia nodded fervently, the motion sending her little triangle pirate hat askew. She pushed it back into place and wiped the hair out of her eyes before looking expectantly at the door. Tom opened the front door and stood back as the kids made a stampede for the lawn. There were tombstones and bones sticking up throughout the yard. Tom had hung fake cobwebs on the porch and a giant motion detecting spider in the tree. He thought it dreadfully funny when I nearly peed myself every time it moved. Henry poked it with his wand, said “Down, Aragog” and moved on. Olivia threw a piece of taffy at it.

            My daughter had the sense to hate the thing as much as I did.

            Tom and I walked hand-in-hand down the lane leading from our farmhouse. We lived quite close to the middle of nowhere, but we didn’t care. It was partly because of the out of the way village that we’d bought the place. We loved London, and we still kept a flat there for when we visited our families, but we wanted to raise the kids away from the craziness brought by Tom’s fame. Our nearest neighbors were half a mile away by the road. But only a few hundred yards through the back garden, past the stable, and over the fence.

            The children ran ahead, stopping and shouting back for us to hurry. I was suddenly flung back to the days when Tom and I would dress up and go to bonfires on the neighborhood green when we were kids. We’d come such a long way from then—through years when we were best friends, the time that we were so far apart that I physically ached, into the years when we finally married and I had his first children. It was a wonderful thing to see our kids running along the lane, crying out in the fading light and calling for Nellie Cumberbatch to come play on Halloween.

            Together, we walked down the access road leading to Benedict and Wren’s house. Henry and James ran up the moss covered steps and laughed as Benedict came out the door with an Indiana Jones hat on. Wren was standing behind him, leaning against the jamb with Nellie hugging her knee. Benedict dropped to one knee and held out his arms.

            “Boys, front and center!” Henry and James squealed and ran into his chest for a hug. Benedict wrapped them up in his long arms and stood up, dangling my seven-year-old twins in each arm and spinning them in circles. Nellie peeked around her mother’s legs to see what was going on.

            James caught sight of her and called out her name. “Nellieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

            She laughed and stepped out onto the porch, Wren close behind her, an anxious look on her face. Tom tucked his arm around my shoulder, knowing that somewhere deep inside me I wondered what my life would have been if I’d married Benedict. But I smiled broadly and watched Nellie meet Olivia at the bottom of the steps.

            Nellie was dressed like a Merida from  _Brave_ , a movie she and Olivia couldn’t get enough of, complete with the bright red wig that was nearly bigger than her. My daughter stopped in front of Benedict and tugged on the pocket of his trousers. With a theatrical flair, he jumped back and set my sons on their feet. He held up both hands toward Olivia and put on a panic stricken face.

            “Please, pirate queen, don’t make me walk the plank!”

            Olivia tried to look devilish, but couldn’t manage it. She ran to Benedict and let him pick her up in a tight hug. When he settled her on his hip, she grinned down at Nellie. “Nell, too.”

            Nellie rushed over to her father and let him scoop her up on his other hip. Henry and James had already grabbed Wren by the hands and were pulling her into the house, begging her with stammered  _por favors_  to speak to them in Spanish.

            Tom and I followed behind, laughing at the ragtag band we were. Life had thrown us a few curveballs, and we’d certainly gotten hit by a few pitches. But, at the end of it all… we were all together.


	11. Shh... Don't Tell Mum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a character named Nellie, who is the daughter of a character named Wren, who comes from a sequel story written by NotSoMolly on Tumblr. You can find that story here: https://notsomolly.tumblr.com/B2B

_Sixteen Years after_ When I’m Gone

_Tom’s POV_

It was dark, twilight really. I walked down the back end of the property toward where our farmhouse joined with Ben and Wren’s. It was hard to believe how everything had worked out with us. And I couldn’t ask for anything better to have happened.

Annie was back at the house taking care of Olivia. She was having a bit of a rough week, and my wife wouldn’t go further than the bathroom. Henry was sitting in the bed with Olivia reading. Those two were more inseparable now than they were before. 

I came out of the hedge just near the fence separating the property. There was a little stairstep over the gate where the children would pass things back and forth, our children sneaking homework and tarts over to Ben’s and his bringing biscuits and books in return. In the darkness, I almost didn’t catch the shadows facing each other over the fence.

“She’s sick again,” said a voice. It was newly deepened and slightly lilting, a voice I knew very well. James. 

The voice that came over the fence in answer sounded broken and rough with tears. I watched the shadows move together, hands clasping and fingers entwining. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could make it better, Jamie.”

No one called him “Jaime.” Well, I suppose someone did. For a moment, I heard them whispering and crying together. Then I saw something I never expected. The shadows moved even closer, James reached out his arms and pulled Penelope “Nellie” Cumberbatch against his chest. 

Then I heard the unmistakable sounds of kissing. I actually blushed, mostly because it felt strange watching my son making out with my best friend’s daughter. And I could only imagine what Annie, Ben, and Wren would have to say about this.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nellie asked, her voice a little breathless. I grinned, half proud that my son seemed to have inherited some of my charisma and half remembering how Annie and I had been at their age. There were only a few years difference between them anyway.

James nodded his head, holding out his hands to help Nellie over the fence. She climbed over and wrapped her fingers around his. They walked together toward the house, swinging their hands gently between the two of them. I stepped back into the shadows, afraid of being caught. 

There was a  _snap!_ as I broke a small branch beneath my feet. Penelope yelped and hid behind James as my son’s body tensed. I rolled my eyes and huffed, stepping out into the faint light. 

“Sneaking out?”

Nellie Cumberbatch went bright red and looked away. James looked up at me–which was really only a casual lift of his eyes–and went slightly pale. “Dad… did you… did you see that?”

I never wanted to lie to my children, but I figured this was a time that called for it. “No. I just got here.”

The both of them relaxed visibly. James took Nellie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t tell Uncle Ben.” For a moment the two of them looked at each other, some private conversation passing between them. I was immediately flung back to adolescence and all the times Annie and I sat together in silence. 

James stopped walking and went deathly pale. He looked at me like he was going to be sick. “Bloody hell, Dad. Don’t tell  _Mum!_ ”


End file.
